20 Angels

I'm not going to try and make this about my blog or about my words tonight, the tragedy in Newtown Connecticut and the loss of those precious, beautiful children is hardly an event that should be used in any way...

I just feel like I need to write about it, that's all.

So many things have struck me in the past few days.  My son is in 1st grade.  The fallen little angels were all his age. This is perhaps the most haunting of all thoughts that have circled my mind the last few days.  The principal died too.  That didn't escape my attention.  It has also made me angry... last week I called to police on a belligerent parent.  This parent was the 3rd this year that has stepped out of line in our school.  You cannot come into a school and behave inappropriately...period.  There are 250 students under my care. It's time for the adults in this community to behave appropriately, because we are no longer a culture that can take much lightly in the halls of our schools.  This very incident highlights my hypersensitivity to some of the behaviors that happen in the front office, in our community, and at our school board meetings.  I'll think of those 20 angel faces every time someone elevates their behavior, we all will.  How can we not?

I've thought a lot about those teachers too.  The stories of heroism.  I work with people like this everyday. I can't say I'm surprised by these stories.  By their very nature, teachers...these bright individuals who could have otherwise have chosen another, far-better compensated path in life, chose to enter into a field that nurtures human growth. Of course some of them threw themselves in front of their children.  It is the heart and nature of a teacher.  I grieve for their loss too.

...and those babies. Those 20 babies whose life had only begun.  20 Christmas trees sit in the homes of 20  broken-hearted families...and under each, there are gifts, wrapped with love....toys, electronics, dolls, books and trucks that will never touch their little hands.  When the shock subdues, they will see that tree. They will see their names adorning the top of a perfectly wrapped gift-- To Emily, Charolette, Jack, Daniel....

and they will weep.  Like I have wept these past few days. As we have all wept.

20 Angels.

Just now I sat and watched the press conference held by Emilie Parker's dad.  Emilie, only 6 years old, told her dad she loved him before he left for work in Portuguese, because he was teaching her that language. He never saw her again.  He says he's not angry. That we all have free agency and that the gunmen chose to do something horrible with his agency. But, he too had free agency and he wanted to do with this tragedy what his little Emilie would have done.  To help and to forgive.

How?   How does a father, who clearly loved his bright and vivacious daughter speak of forgiveness and love when he will never have the opportunity to share those human elements with her again? How does human compassion prevail in the face of the most horrible of tragedies?

....of all the things that have hurt so deeply the past few days, this, and this alone, gave me a sense of peace.

God Bless your perfect little souls, little angels.  Wrap your tiny angel wings around those who grieve for you and pull them through the darkness.